Disclaimer: Just written for my
own and other's amusement, BBC. Please not be suing me.

Author's
Note: Written for an anon
request in my LJ. Thanks to Saz for beta-ing and being awesome. Love
ya, darling.

II

Part
Nine: Wherein a crowd is tough, Nattdvalve is given a challenge,
Berho gets a memorial of sorts, a human affinity is reinforced, a
relationship remains unnamed and certain things do not change at
all

Rose isn't surprised
to find a welcoming committee in her room as she exists the TARDIS,
mostly because the Doctor told them they were there as soon as the
TARDIS materialised. She puts on her best fake-surprise face still,
just in case they were hoping for one.

She's feeling
generous, after all.

"Hello! Had a feeling I would find
you lot here," the Doctor says cheerfully, clearly not bothering
with the fake surprise. "Sorry about the blackout. Hope you
didn't miss your favourite football match on telly or some such, but
matters of planetary well-being were rather pressing. No need to
execute us, I assure you."

He pauses, but no one else
says anything, and the silence stretches on a bit.

"That's
where they usually assure me they weren't really planning on it,"
he mutters to Rose, who supresses a smile. "Right, you're
probably wondering what I nicked all your power for, and you're
thinking it's something brilliant, am I right?"

Again,
the silence stretches on.

"Seems you're wrong," Rose
whispers, and he gives her a wounded look.

"I am not
wrong, this is just a tough crowd," he corrects. "No
matter. I have solved your ghost problems."

They stare at
him, a few muttering some very rude words Rose feels almost insulted
at. Granted, she thinks the Doctor has lost his marbles now and then
too, but she has a right to think that. She's claimed that right, and
the Doctor gives her a grin, as if he knows.

She reaches back into the TARDIS, and ever so
careful she lifts the sphere out. It is still beating steadily and
surely, and when she rests her palm on the surface, she can almost
hear the whispers.

"A little of your technology, a
little of mine," the Doctor says, beaming. "I've charged it
pretty well. You're a clever lot, you'll find some way to keep it
alive and communicate with those inside. I could do it for you, but
I'm not going to. You need a good challenge."

"How...?"
one of the aliens ask, staring so intently Rose thinks it almost
looks greedy.

"Brilliance. Now, as nice as it's been
being accused of murder here, Rose and I rather have to hop along.
Rose, give them their dead, and let's hop."

"Hopping
along right behind you, Doctor," she says, and he vanishes
inside. She places the sphere carefully in the nearest alien's arms,
and he stares at her, eyes so very dark.

"Walker Rose,
what...? How did...?"

"Just Rose now," she
says softly. "Rose'll do. Take care of them. You owe them
that."

And with that, she walks away, feeling just the
briefest moment of pride. Berho desired change for his home, she
remembers. Maybe now there'll be some.

Maybe he would've
thought that the best memorial there is.

II

"Doctor?"

"Mmmm?"

She
turns over on her side to look at him bathed in sun - they needed
some serious sun after everything, she had insisted, and he had
eventually agreed - and he's smiling distantly, eyes closed, lips
warm from sun. She's going to kiss him later, but right now, it feels
good to have time to wait too.

"The
human affinity for stating the obvious," he says affectionately,
a light breeze ruffling his hair. "Yeah. For you. And don't you
start asking me if Holmes would've done that for Watson, or if Poirot
had a partner he also occasionally shagged or if Miss Marple ever
felt alone."

She smiles, and he cracks one eye open,
regarding her.

"You all right?"

"I
think I will be," she answers honestly. "Still feels like
I've lost something."

"It'll get better."

He
would know, she thinks.

He flips over on his side as well,
smiling at her. "Not everyone gets their own ghost story, Rose
Tyler. Or live to hear it told and retold and changed and written
down and finally ripped off by a bad big budget movie. They probably
made one. We could go see."

She wrinkles her nose. "I
think I've had enough ghosts for a while."

"Yeah, me
too," he agrees readily. "Might try for life. Live a
little. Mummies though, mummies you never get enough of."

She
does kiss him then, and he still hesitates a little before kissing
her back, and she does wonder if he is merely giving her what she
wants and this is not about what he wants at all, but she can live on
the hope that he wants it a little too. She knows there's a million
unresolved issues still, and their relationship has changed from one
unnamed thing to another, but that's all right. Life is
change.

"Doctor?"

"Mmmm?"

"Are
you sure parking the TARDIS on the Opera House to catch some tan was
such a bright idea after all?"

"Why?"

"Because
there are quite a lot of police down there and they're not looking
particularly pleased."

He glances over her shoulder. "Oh!
That's the Sydney Water Police. Delightful people. I helped them
solve this mystery once..."

Life is change, she decides,
but certain things remain the same still.

II

Epilogue:
Wherein endings depend

A
story, it is known, has a beginning and an end. Both may depend upon
the teller. A story may have a happy ending if you end it at a
certain time, and the same story may have an unhappy one if you end
it at another. Everything depends.

Rose
and the Doctor travelled on. Some things changed. Some did not. Maybe
they were happy. It depends.

Nattdvalve went on. The people
were still greedy for knowledge, and the living still died, but now
and then someone brave would listen to a ghost, and see what might be
better. Maybe they learned a lesson. It depends.

The ghosts
whispered on. Important messages sometimes, personal messages
sometimes, and often both. But even whispers can die, and ghosts let
go.

Maybe that's where it ends. Maybe not.

It depends.

FIN

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